


My Dog, The Werewolf

by Adassai



Category: Original Work
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Male Character, Dysfunctional Family, Family Drama, Going to Bone Town, Interspecies Awkwardness, Knotting, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Not Actually A Dog, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Comedy, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 19:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18835327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adassai/pseuds/Adassai
Summary: Living in a shoddy neighbor and tired of getting his house ransacked, Sirus decides to get the biggest, meanest dog he can find at the local shelter. But the dog turns out to be sweeter (and much smarter) than he'd anticipated. Oh, and turns out he's not a dog but a werewolf.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story over four years ago, but never got anywhere close to finishing. I found this recently and decided to deserved another chance. This story was originally posted on another site, but they have content restriction, so I also wanted to share it here where I can get a little bit more creative with bedroom scenes. Please feel free to leave any critiques, reviews, or criticism. Hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirus gets an ultimatum from his neighbor, which forces Toby to come out of hiding.

It was sometime mid-morning at Sirus' house. A harsh, angry sun tried to break through the windows of the living room, but it was thwarted by the ragged curtains, leaving the room in a dark haze of shadow and cigarette smoke. Sirus lounged lazily on the couch, staring absent-mindedly at the television screen that flickered in and out of reception. Subconsciously, one hand drifted continuously from his mouth to the bag of chips strewn on his stomach, while his other hand stroked gently through a thick forest of fur which existed as a hulking dog-shaped object stretched across the floor.

 

Most people had been awake long ago, but Sirus had only just crawled from bed before he downed a cup of instant coffee and slumped onto the couch while he waited for the caffeine to stir him from his stupor. Unlike most people, he was not employed or productive, and even though he was pushing toward his mid-20’s, he was OK with that. He was OK with spending most of his time bordering on boredom, idly strolling through life, his ennui punctuated only by the occasional break-through gig that allowed his band a venue at which to stretch their fingers and vocal chords.

 

The big dog resting in front of the couch perked his ears, and he let out a low, grumbling bark as he rose to his feet. A moment later, a knock pounded at the door- loud and angry.

 

With caffeine slowing trickle into his bloodstream, Sirus hoisted himself up and pried the door as far as the chain would allow. He squinted through the sunlight to see an angry woman's face. Her hair was thrown lazily into a misshapen bun of tousled blonde, and she wore baggy sweatpants tucked into Ugg boots.

 

"Sirus, open the door," she harped.

 

The young man let out an exasperated sigh, closing the door, unhooking the chain, and allowing the door to swing fully open. The girl stood on his stoop with her arms crossed and beneath her breasts- her nipples were peeking out through her tank top. A cell phone was shoved beneath one bra strap.

 

"Your goddamn dog was in my yard again," she accused, sending a glare toward the large dog hovering behind Sirus’ shoulder.

 

Sirus groaned, running a hand through already disheveled, fading blue hair.

 

"Chrissy, Toby sleeps with me every night, and I lock my doors every fucking night. Unless he's learned how to use a lock, it’s someone else’ dog."

 

A triumphant smirk twisted her lips; she removed the phone from her underneath her bra strap and shoved it toward his face. On the screen was a picture of two dogs. Humping.  _ Lovely _ , he thought.

 

"I really don't care what fucked up porn you look at, Chrissy."

 

"Fuck you!" she snapped, shoving the phone closer. "Look at the dogs, dumb ass. That's Toby!"

 

He squinted again at the photo. The weed-littered dirt and the fence with chipping white paint definitely could’ve been Chrissy’s delipidated backyard, and the bitch on the bottom was a distinctive white standard poodle. That was definitely Chrissy's dog, Bella. Turning his eye to the dog on top, his brows furrowed. He would recognize that massive, grey creature anywhere.

In disbelief, his head darted from the phone to behind his shoulder, where his dog was sitting and observing the conversation. Toby's nose turned away suddenly, though he could see the flicker of Toby’s gaze as he looked out from the corner of his eye. Was that fucking mutt looking guilty?

 

"I…fuck," he said. "I don't know how he got out. I'm sorry, OK? Is she pregnant or something?"

 

"No," Chrissy replied. "Thank god your dog is fucking infertile."

 

"So what's the problem?"

 

Her face grew red.

 

"The problem is your dog is running around like a mad man, and one day he's going to stop shooting blanks! If you can't keep him inside, then get him fixed!"

 

Sirus huffed. OK, maybe Toby had always been a bit of an escape artist. Like, literally an escape artist- not a dog some moron left in a backyard who would inevitably bury his way under the fence. Sirus couldn’t begin to comprehend how the dog managed to not only get out of a locked house but  _ lock the doors on his way back in _ .

 

"I'm not going to get him fixed," Sirus stated resolutely. He wasn't going to degrade his poor dog. "You just need to keep your dog inside."

 

Chrissy's eyes narrowed to slits, and her face went from a cherry pink to crimson. Her fists clenched, and Sirus wondered if her phone would shatter between her manicured fingers.

 

"If you don't get your creature fixed, I’m reporting him to animal control,” she threatened with grit teeth. “I know the county has him on record as a dangerous dog, so if I give them proof he’s allowed to wander the neighborhood, he’ll be right back in the pound.”

 

Now it was Sirus' turn to be mad, glaring back at the diminutive, fuming woman before him. He crossed his arms tightly over his narrow chest, internally debating. He’d never wanted to get Toby fixed. Yeah, he knew the whole population control debate. But he'd never had the heart to deprive his companion of his gnads. Still, there wouldn’t be a dog to protect if animal control knew Toby was gallivanting around at night. Chrissy, evil bitch that she was, was right; Toby had already been labeled 'dangerous' the second he’d been picked up off the street as a massive, snarling beast. Apparently, he’d nearly nipped off the dog catcher’s nose.

 

"Fine, I'll get him fixed. Happy?" he huffed.

 

The smug smile that stretched across her face told him the answer was 'yes'.

 

"About fucking time," she retorted, turning and hopping down the cracked steps of his front porch, marching back toward her house with an exultant swagger.

 

Sirus sighed, closing the door and returning the chain. He turned to his dog with a judging, lowered brow.

 

"You couldn't keep your dick to yourself?"

 

The guilt on Toby’s face had been replaced; now the dog stared up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. He looked scared, which instantly panged guilt into Sirus’ chest. Maybe, he mused, Toby was aware of the conversation that had transpired and knew his balls were on the chopping block. But the young man scoffed internally; Toby had always been particularly astute, but understanding English? That was a stretch.

 

He reached down to run a gentle hand over the dog's head, but his fingers only met air as Toby took off toward the bedroom. Sirus stood for a moment, confused as he listened to the steady clack of nails across the floor as presumably Toby had taken to pacing in the other room. Rather than struggling to decipher the canine's peculiar behavior, Sirus resolved to return to sprawling on the couch and turned his attention back to the television set.

  
  


The next morning, Sirus awoke much earlier than he'd anticipated; through half-lidded eyes, he could see that the light streaming into his bedroom was a mottled pink as sunrise bloomed in the world outside. For several moments, he lay frozen in his bed, trying to discern what had wrested him from sleep; he had never been an early riser, and he had no desire to start.

 

Finally, the steady click-clack of nails against hardwood registered in his brain, and he realized that his toes, usually warmed by Toby’s body at the foot of his bed, only felt the sharp bite of the cold air. He sat up with a groan, staring down at the large grey mass pacing from one side of the room to the other, his doggie-face furrowed in an expression strangely redolent of human perturbation.

 

"Dude, chill the fuck out," he groaned, flopping back onto his pillows.

 

Sirus tossed and turned for minutes, pleading for his eyes to close and his brain to tumble back to a land of dreams. But his traitorous body had decided he was meant to be awake.

 

Sirus slid gracelessly out of bed, stumbling out of his bedroom; the warm brush of fur against his leg told him that Toby, as usual, followed him faithfully to the kitchen. He grabbed a can of instant coffee from the cupboard, nuking a mug of water and adding in two tablespoons of the dark grounds. Sitting at the kitchen table, he sipped at the old, cracked mug; the coffee was bitter and charred, but he liked the way it burned his mouth and his smoke-dulled senses.

 

He stared out the sliding glass door, which opened to their meager backyard. Over the edge of the fence, the sky slowly shifted colors as the sun rose from an unseen horizon. The young man couldn't remember the last time he’d seen a sunrise, and he found himself awed by its novelty and beauty.

 

Was this what the rest of the world saw every morning? Or did other people wake early just to scuttle to their jobs, heads buried down so could never pause to speculate about the sun that painted the sky in warm, sherbet hues?

 

Not that Sirus claimed to be any better than them. He knew his place in the world- depressingly low on the totem pole, little better than a leach. When he was younger, he’d had vague dreams of lofty achievement- of making a name for himself, or at least making a life that was worth something. But those dreams had faded away in the turbulent blur that was his teenage years. Aspirations had been smothered by the dense smoke of cheap weed and the stinging waves of pilfered booze.

 

And then his parent's accident had happened, and while the storm of adolescent recalcitrance had promptly dissipated, Sirus had been left in the wake of disaster feeling stunted. Quietly, he thought, he wasn’t any different than that boy five years ago- just as young and as lost and as hopeless. But that boy had been fueled by teenage angst, a rebellious rage that kept his engine turning and his life moving, even if not necessarily in the right direction. But now, his fuel tanks had run dry, the locomotion of his life coming to a standstill, and here he sat, musing that he was a train rusting on the tracks.

 

Blinking from his ponderings, he noted that the sky had now changed from pink and orange to the crisp blue of morning, and he glanced at the clock on the microwave which blinked 8:14.  _ Good _ , he thought, standing up and rooting between the couch cushions until he found his cellphone, discarded from the night before.

 

He dialed the veterinarian's office, waiting on the line until the receptionist picked up.

 

"Hi, my name is Sirus Greene,” he greeted, putting on ‘big boy’ voice. “My dog Toby is a regular patient there, and I was hoping I could see about getting an appointment for getting him neutered.”

 

“Absolutely, sir,” the receptionist chirped. “One moment.”

 

On the line, he heard the clack of nails against a keyboard. While the woman rummaged through her computer files, Sirus turned his attention back to his grey beast of a dog, who now stood frozen in the living room. Toby was staring back at him with giant, unblinking eyes. His tail was limp between his legs. The sight sent a nervous shiver through him; his dog had always been a little strange, though endearingly so, but of all the odd expressions had crossed his doggy face, fear had never been one of them. Lightning, fireworks, gunshots, vacuum cleaners- none had caused the dog to even raise a brow. So why did he now look so terrified?

 

"Mr. Greene?" the receptionist interjected. "I don’t know whether you have any availability today, but we actually had a cancellation this afternoon at one, if you’d be interested. Otherwise, we have appointments for next week on Tuesday and Thursday.”

 

Sirus did his best not to laugh. If there was anything in the world that he had, it was open availability. He decided to bite the bullet rather than waiting until next week when he may have well forgotten about the appointment.

 

“One o’ clock actually works really great for me.”

 

More keyboard sounds.

 

"Alright, I have you booked for today at one. As long as the vet clears Toby with a pre-surgery evaluation, the total procedure time, including recovery period, will be approximately one hour. As long as there are no complications, he’ll be cleared to be brought home after that. We look forward to seeing you and Toby today."

 

Sirus gave a perfunctory ‘thank you’ and hung up, throwing the cell phone onto the couch. He had about four and a half hours before he’d have to leave, which gave Sirus just enough to time to pull himself into a semblance of presentability and get enough motivation to open the front door.

 

First on his list, it took him an hour to satisfactorily create an ass-shaped dent in the couch cushions. While normally, Toby would have been happy to help him, the dog was growing increasingly agitated. He was back to pacing, only stopping every few minutes to pause and stare at Sirus with an intensity that made goosebumps sprout along his arms. Trying to escape his gaze, Sirus hopped into the shower, making sure to shut the bathroom door behind him. After forty-five minutes, he finally stepped out, sated and clean. Toby was sitting right outside the bathroom door.

 

“Stop being a creep,” he chastised.

 

The rest of the time he wasted away with bad television, cigarettes, and doing his best at ignoring Toby’s incessant gaze. At noon, the dog had taken up to whining. Finally, at twelve-thirty, Sirus threw on ragged jeans and an old sweatshirt and grabbed car keys and Toby’s leash.

 

"Come on," he called, patting the side of his leg as he waited by the front door.

 

Toby didn't move, staring at him with an expression that Sirus could only describe as abject horror.

 

"Come on, Toby. Car ride!"

 

The dog did not budge.

 

With an exasperated sigh, Sirus walked back over to him, grabbing the dog's collar and pulling them both to the door. Toby's legs splayed out to either side, nails scraping against the hardwood as he tried to scramble backwards.

 

"Stop, you can't!"

 

Sirus froze at the sudden, foreign male voice. His eyes whipped around frantically but only saw his empty living room. Incredulously, he looked down.

 

Toby stared up at him with pleading, desperate puppy eyes. His mouth opened, revealing sharp, canine teeth.

 

“Sirus, you can’t neuter me,” the dog spoke.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the past, Sirus meets Toby for the first time. In the present, Sirus meets Toby for the second time.

_Two Years Earlier_

Sirus was fed up with getting his shit stolen.

 

Late into Friday night, early into Saturday morning, he tugged his guitar case from the passenger side seat of his car and staggered his way to the front door. Yanking his keys from his pockets, he tried to shove his golden house key into the lock, only to find that the door knob was about three inches farther than it should have been. The door hung ajar. The soft thrum of euphoria previously flowing through his veins ran cold, and his heart gave a thud as it crashed to the bottom of his rib cage.

 

The soft thrum of euphoria that had been flowing through his veins ran cold, and his heart gave a thud as it crashed to the bottom of his rib cage.

 

"Fuck," he cursed, sprinting inside.

 

The place looked no more disarrayed than when he'd left (clothes scattered everywhere, wrappers and bags littered the floor), but there were stark holes in the dust on his furniture where his most expensive belongings had once resided. The television stand stood barren; his flat screen and Blu-ray player had vanished; the array of amps, previously strewn in piles in the dining room, were missing.

 

"Fucking punk ass little bitches," he groaned, throwing himself onto his ragged couch face first. His fist pounded into the lumpy cushions.

 

Most of Sirus' stuff was trash- a lot of cheap, second-hand furniture found at thrift stores or Craigslist. A 20-something-year old guy had no need for a nice couch or a matching dining room set. But what kid with unlimited money wouldn't buy himself a nice television and amps loud enough to shake the house's foundation? Now he paid the price, and it was the second time his house had been raided. The local asshats weren't stupid; everyone knew he was loaded.

 

With a groan of resignation, he finally phoned the police. It took Oakland PD an hour to arrive, and another hour to finish filing his report. The last time his place had been hit, he’d installed cameras, but the feeds that were reviewed were disheartening. The two shadowy figures he watched through his phone seemed to know where the cameras were located; as they approached the house, they kept their faces angled away and obscured with wide-brimmed hats. They’d taken gum and shoved it over the outside cameras. Once inside, they’d slipped on masks to avoid having to locate and disable the remaining cameras. While the officers that arrived assured him half-heartedly that they’d do the best with the information they had, Sirus knew better than to think he’d ever get his stuff back.

 

That night, he'd decided he wasn't going to fool around with any thicker locks or fancy alarms. He wanted something big and nasty to ward off the assholes and to tear a new hole into any idiots that decided to come inside. The next morning, he found himself at the local shelter, perusing the aisles of dogs.

He ambled slowly through the maze of cages lined with concrete floors. This was a big city, and there had to be nearly one-hundred dogs in this facility. All of them looked saddened and defeated, and most had small, delicate ribs protruding out through their fur. Many were nestled in the corner of their cages, legs quivering and tails tucked between their legs. Others paced incessantly, letting out a never-ending stream of whimpers and howls. Still, some lashed angrily at the doors of their cages, white teeth flashing and tangling with the steel mesh of their cages.

Sirus paused at these dogs, making a mental note and adding them to his list of candidates. Angry dogs didn't scare him, but he knew they had a good chance of scaring off anyone trying to break into his home.

 

Finally coming to the end of the final row of cages, Sirus was about to turn back around and pare down his list when a giant grey blob caught the corner of his eyes. He did a double-take into the last cage. Against the far wall lay the largest dog he had ever seen. Fuck no, that thing didn't look like a dog so much as a wolf. In fact, it looked exactly like a grey wolf- only bigger. Sirus had never heard of a timber wolf being over a hundred pounds, but glancing at the dog's intake paper hanging on the outside of his cage, his presumptions were validated; it listed his weight as a whopping 180 pounds.

 

Sirus kneeled down at the front of the cage, staring at the massive creature. His fur was surprisingly sleek and glinted in the sunlight- nonetheless, there were patches where fur had been ripped away, revealing healing skin. For a moment, his mission was forgotten, entranced as he was with a creature of such enormity, but his eye caught the red sign hanging next to the dog's intake papers. It read 'Caution: I Bite'.

 

A grin came across Sirus' face just as the dog's eyes flickered open. They were an eerie yellow that seemed to glow from within, and for a moment, Sirus was lost in them, tumbling forward into the deep, tunneling darkness of his irides, and surrounded by their blackness, he was struck with an immense sadness, an incorrigible lose, and unshakable loneliness.

 

The moment was broken. The grey dog lunged forward from his resting place, huge white fangs flashing and a feral growl erupting from behind his teeth. Sirus flinched only slightly, otherwise undeterred. The other dogs had gnashed ferociously against the fencing of their enclosure, as if trying to gnaw through to the reach him; their intent was real. But this dog kept a good six inches from the edge of his cage, and for all his savage displays, Sirus remained incredulous to his viciousness.

 

"You're not fooling me," Sirus whispered. "I saw that sadness, buddy."

 

The dog continued his displays for a moment longer, trying valiantly with wicked clashes of teeth and guttural snarls. But finally, he paused, licking his lips and staring intently at the human boy. As if giving up, the creature sighed, collapsing once more and falling into silence.

 

Grinning ear to ear, Sirus stood up, marching back to the shelter's receptionist.

 

"I want the giant grey dog," he announced.

 

The fat, older woman behind the counter raised a brow. As many dogs as there were here, most descriptions were useless in differentiating one dog from the other. But the 'giant grey dog' had been an exception. Everyone knew the giant grey dog, who they'd wanted to pawn off to Wildlife Services before being told that wolves just didn't grow that big. _Had to be a dog_ , they'd said.

 

"He's not really suitable as a pet," she warned, fingers playing nervously with a pen in her hand.

 

"Nah, he's cool," he replied.

 

She looked taken aback, turning to her computer and beginning to type furiously.

 

"We, uh," she cleared her throat before continuing. "We really hadn't been prepared for him to be adopted, so he isn't neutered yet. It will take 3-4 days to get him scheduled, then he can be released the next day as long as he doesn’t have any complications from the procedure."

 

Sirus frowned. He realized the implication of what she said. They hadn't bothered neutering him because he wasn't going to be adopted before he his time was up, and he was euthanized. In a big city like this, there were a lot of strays, and a dog in a shelter had about a week to snag a human admirer before they were killed and discarded. Economically, it made sense not to bother with procedures for a dog doomed to execution.

 

"You don't have to bother neutering him," Sirus contended.

 

The woman shook her head.

 

"It's shelter policy; all pets have to be vaccinated and sterilized before adoption."

 

He frowned, remembering once again the face of that dog- sad and without dignity. He couldn't subject him to that. And Sirus had never been a man of patience. He’d come here prepared to leave with a dog.

 

The young man reached into his pocket to grab his wallet. He slid two $100 bills across the counter.

 

"Can this count as his neutering?"

 

The woman's face grew a soft shade of red, and she gave a soft cough. Nonetheless, she reached out and pocketed the two bills.

 

"Absolutely, sir. We'll just have you fill out an adoption application."

 

Sirus stared down at his dog, his eyes feeling like they were ready to jump out of their sockets. Every muscle in his body was rigid, and it felt like the cogs of his brain had not only stopped but were pedaling, uselessly, backward

.

He stumbled back and landed on his ass, hands grasping at his face.

 

"Fuck, how fucking high am I?" he yelped.

 

It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of his bloodstream, and he was left gasping for air. His legs trembled.

 

"No no no! I didn't even smoke this morning. Oh god."

 

His dog stared back at him with fearful eyes, his tail wagging nervously behind him, and his ears pinned guiltily to his skull.

 

"You just talked, right?" Sirus asked, pointing an accusatory finger.

 

Toby nodded.

 

"Yes, I did."

 

Once again, Sirus was floored by the sight of those furry lips moving and words spilling out. Though he thought his heart couldn't race any faster, it found a fucking way.

 

"And I'm not high?" he whined.

 

Toby shook his head.

 

"No, you're not high."

 

This time, Sirus had a chance to listen to the voice speaking to him. It was a young man's voice, soft and rumbly, sweet but not effeminate.

 

"What…what are you?" he questioned. He feared an honest answer.

 

Toby tipped his maw toward the open door.

 

"Close that first, please," he requested softly.

 

Nodding, Sirus pushed his hand back, and the door slammed shut, trapping them inside. He'd never been afraid of Toby before, even when he'd seen the dog for the first time as a growling, snarling beast in an iron cage. But now, Sirus wasn't sure whether he wanted to be in an enclosed space with him. Nonetheless, he didn't move, still sprawled on the floor and staring at the dog gazing intently back at him.

 

First, there was a popping sound. No, more like a crackling- like crisp, autumn leaves rolled around between one’s palms. The sound grew louder, sharper, less like leaves and more like bones shattering. The air around Toby started to shimmer, as if the dog's body was  midsummer asphalt, giving off a wavering heat that created mirage puddles in the distance. His form grew less substantial, the lines defining his existence growing soft and smudged. The shimmery, wavering, insubstantial form that was once his dog morphed, growing taller and leaner.

And suddenly the air cleared, like a wind had swept away the fog, and what stood in its place was a man. A stark naked man.

 

Sirus' mouth fell open, hanging like a swing set from a tree branch. His tongue lolled around in his mouth, struggling to grasp words that his brain failed to manufacture. He was suddenly aware of a cold sweat all over his body, little beads traveling errantly down his neck and back. Incapable of moving or speaking, he could only gape at this man, this creature, this dog, for what felt like hours. With his chest tightening rapidly, Sirus realized with panic that he wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

 

The man stared back at him, sitting patiently, unabashed by his nudity. Unable to do anything else, Sirus' eyes mapped every feature of that strange form. Even sitting, Sirus could tell the man was taller than himself- probably around six foot. His body was made up of pale skin stretched taut over lean, defined muscle; by his body alone, he could've been a model. And yet, upon second glance, Sirus could see that his skin was marred by scars both faint and jagged. In some places, the skin was marked only faint raised lines, but other areas- like a nasty looking patch on his shoulder- were made of malformed, mottled patches of skin, as if the flesh had once been ripped away, leaving his body struggling to stitch together another layer of epithelium.

 

In contrast to his modelesque body, the man was ragged from the shoulders up. His hair grew down to his collarbones in wild clumps of dark tangles, and a thick, gnarled beard grew from his jaw. Yet even framed by his matted mane, his eyes were the same eyes he'd seen two years ago- fierce and glowing, yellow like a fairytale moon. Those were the eyes he'd fallen in love with at the shelter two years ago, even as they were steeped in pain. He'd watched over the months as that pain had been slowly washed away, leaving him a doggy gaze filled with content and devotion.

 

He could remember countless evenings sitting on his back patio, cigarette in one hand and his other gently stroking along the nape of Toby's neck. With every exhale of smoke, the dog's nose would wrinkle and ears would fall back at the acrid fumes, but when Sirus looked down, there was no irritation in that face, just a glowing adoration pouring from those beautiful, yellow eyes.

The human groaned, wanting to bury his face in his hands, close his eyes and not open them until the world was righted. But he didn't dare turn away from the man sitting before him. That man had once been his trusted companion, but the trust had shattered at the first words of English.

 

"So, uh, you're a…werewolf or something," he croaked.

 

Sirus wasn't a cultural idiot. The Wolf Man, American Werewolf in London, fucking Twilight- he'd heard of them all.

 

Toby- or whoever he was now- nodded, offering a tentative and sheepish smile.

 

"Um, yeah," he replied. "Sorry about that."

 

Sirus' eyes widened in disbelief.

 

"Sorry?" he repeated, voice rising and cracking. "You're sorry that you lied to me for two fucking years, pretending to my dog, my friend, and now I find out you're some sort of fucking monster?"

 

He regretted the words the moment they left his lips. Firstly, because he'd just insulted a creature who he knew was capable of transforming into 180 pounds of very big, very sharp teeth. And secondly, because the look that crossed Toby's human face was like he’d been lashed with a whip.

 

"I am your friend," he whimpered. "I'm sorry I lied. I am.

 

“But when I was in the shelter, I'd given up hope on living. I wanted them to kill me so that I could finally be free of my misery and my shame, and I pushed away everyone I could, but you didn't care."

 

The ragged man's face began to flush, his eyes growing wetter and threatening to tumble over tears. Sirus was taken aback by the display of weakness and emotion; from the neck up, he looked like a hardened mountain man, and yet his words were punctuated with pain. Once more, those eyes were tainted with the despondency that Sirus had strived so hard to erase.

 

"You still wanted me," he continued, breathe hitching. "No one had ever wanted me. You took me home, and you made me want to live again. You're the only friend I have. I'm so sorry."

 

Sirus sighed, and feeling the immediacy of danger lift away, finally buried his face into his hands. So, this was Toby. This was the dog that he loved. The dog that slept curled around his toes. The dog that followed him with every step. The dog he took out to his parent's old lake house, spending hours wandering trails and swimming in the lake, coming home at night to sit together by a fire.

 

And this was the dog that had protected him, unwaveringly. He'd warded off intruders, even attacked a mugger. Mind you, he'd also literally pissed on a woman he'd tried to bring home, but Sirus chose to gloss over those embarrassing moments.

 

The blue-haired boy lifted his head up again, face somewhat more composed, his brain beginning to work again as it beginning to digest this new world in which it found itself, so similar and yet so different. Like when his world came crashing down at the death of his parents, he knew that he couldn’t change the reality in which he found himself, and he had no choice but to accept the world as it was. This was Toby, his best friend.

 

He finally broke his silence with his signature, lopsided smile.

 

"You saw me naked, you freaking pervert," he shot huffily.

 

Toby grinned with human teeth, his sadness from moments ago washed away and replaced with the same glint of amusement he'd seen so many times twinkling in his dogs' eye. Toby leaned back, crossing his ankles in front of him and gestured down the length of his body with one hand.

 

"Favor returned."

 

Sirus was suddenly made were aware of how naked Toby was, and his face flushed pink, turning his gaze away. I mean, it wasn't like Toby hadn't been naked as a dog, and he'd seen Toby's…well, private bits during enthusiastic tummy rubs, but a furless, human Toby sitting on his floor with his dick flopping out felt very different and very wrong.

 

"Maybe you should go put some clothes on."

 

Toby shrugged, rising to his feet, and Sirus followed a moment later.

 

"Can I take a shower first?" he asked excitedly. "I haven't washed this form in, like…a really long time."

 

Sirus shrugged.

 

"Sure go ahead, the bathroom is in…oh well, you know where it is."

 

Toby nodded and turned around, heading back toward the bedroom and the adjacent bathroom. Sirus watched him leave, eyes drifting down and catching sight of his ass. It muscular but small and round and perky; it was a nice ass.

  
_Shit_ , Sirus internally reprimanded. That was his dog's ass.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirus and Toby go out shopping, and Sirus learns a bit more about creatures of the night.

After hearing the bathroom door shut, Sirus took a deep breath before walking to the couch, collapsing into its lumpy, misshapen cushions. Life had just gotten a lot weirder.

 

Looking back, his few ephemeral friends had always been perturbed by Toby. He'd rolled his eyes at their complaints:

 

_"Dude, he's staring at me like he's trying to eat my soul."_

_"Your dog is creepy as hell."_

_“If you want to fuck, you have to lock him outside. I think he has a boner.”_

 

He'd never given a shit about what any of them had said; they weren't the ones that kept him company nearly every moment of the day. They were, at best, fair-weather friends, but more accurately, they were passing footnotes in his life.

 

Though ironically, it looked like they were right. There was something wrong with his dog, and it was that he’d never been a dog at all.

 

But Sirus had always been incredibly adaptable, even if somewhat dysfunctional about it.

When he was seventeen, he'd been sitting in his Government class when a voice crackled through on the intercom- "Will you please send Sirus Greene to the front office?”

 

At the time, Sirus- a young, wannabe punk with green hair combed into a sad, drooping mohawk, lips and ears pierced, eyes smudged with at least three days’ worth of caked eyeliner- had let out an exasperated sigh. _What the fuck do they want now_ , he'd thought?

 

But when he arrived at the office, it was not the principal or any punitory body waiting for him. His aunt stood in the small waiting room of the front office, wringing her hands around the tail of the scarf hanging from her neck. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks swollen, and her chin quivered.

 

"Sirus, we have to talk, baby."

 

He'd stood immobile for a moment, a looming sense of doom washing over him before he nodded. The two of them walked to the parking lot outside before Aunt Bea turned around to face him, her thin hands grasping his shoulders.

 

"There was an accident," she began, voice trembling. "Your parent's plane stalled, and the...the plane went down. They didn’t survive."

 

The words hit him like a fist to the stomach, leaving him trembling and nauseated. He stood silently for a moment, breath held, feeling his heart twist and writhe in agony. The young boy was pulled from his shock by the tight embrace of his aunt, and he promptly buried his face into her shoulder, letting out a single sob.

 

The death of his parents had left a vacuous hole in Sirus, but he had accepted his situation the moment the news had been broken to him. There was no denial, no anger, no lengthy curses at God, no desperate prayers to heaven to bring his parents back. The world was just how it was, and Sirus would make no efforts to warp his reality from the truth.

 

He was the same way with this new predicament. He didn't like the idea of Toby being more than a dog. He didn't like that there had been a person living in his house unbeknownst to him for two years. And he certainly didn't like the idea that werewolves were actually real. But apparently these things were all true.

 

Sirus was pulled from his thoughts some 45 minutes later, realizing that in the meantime he'd subconsciously grabbed a cigarette and found himself smoking like a steam locomotive in the living room. He cursed quietly as he trudged out the back door, and he ground the diminutive butt of his cigarette into the ashtray on the patio table; he'd never liked his house smelling like cigarettes.

 

When he turned back inside, slamming the sliding glass door behind him, he heard another door open. A moment later, Toby the man walked back into the living room. He was still very naked, except for the towel being rubbed vigorously through his hair, but he looked like a different human. His body was still handsomely sculpted, but now had the shimmer of lingering moisture instead of the matte of years of caked dirt. But the most drastic in change was Toby’s face.

 

The scraggly, mangled beard was gone. Now clean-shaven, Sirus could actually see the face underneath, and he was surprised by how young it was. This man looked no older than 25, graced with a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a graceful aquiline nose. His hair was no longer tangled, and it fell in wet tendrils onto his shoulders, issuing rivulets of water down the contours of his chest.

 

Sirus threw up a hand to hide Toby's lower half from view.

 

"Woah dude, clothes, remember?" he protested.

 

Toby's head fell to the side. He didn't object to wearing clothes, but he didn't understand Sirus' obvious disapproval.

 

"I was naked as a 'dog' this whole time. How is this any different?" he asked.

 

"There's a big difference!" was all Sirus gave in response. But the biggest difference, he thought, was that his dog hadn't been hot as hell.

 

Tentatively, Sirus lowered his hand, and with a start, he realized that the beard was not the only bit of hair that Toby had trimmed back.

 

“Tell me you didn’t use my clippers on your balls,” Sirus groaned.

 

Toby looked down at himself with a grin.

 

“I may have gotten a little excited with shaving,” Toby acknowledged.

 

_Absolutely perfect._ Now he’d have to sanitize the blades. Maybe just throw them out. Toby was clean now, but Sirus knew for a fact that he hadn’t smelled all that great as a dog, and he’d somehow looked even dirtier without fur covering his skin.

 

“Warn me next time,” Sirus grumbled. “Let’s find something for you to wear.”

 

Following Toby back into his bedroom, he began to pull out the drawers of his dresser. Finding a shirt was relatively easy; Sirus had a propensity for baggy t-shirts and oversized sweaters, but he hadn’t worn anything other than skinny jeans since middle school. While Toby was only about three inches taller than him, the ‘man’ had at least 60 pounds on Sirus. Much like his teenage punk years, Sirus had maintained an awkwardly thin physique complete with bony shoulders, a concave stomach, and hipbones that poked out like tiny daggers. Pajama bottoms- typically loose and baggy- were the only thing Sirus owned that would fit Toby; his pants probably wouldn't even fit over Toby's calf.

 

Whily Toby changed, Sirus flopped onto his bed, back toward the changing man.

 

"So are you going to stay like this now?" he asked to the far wall.

 

"I mean, only if you're comfortable," Toby’s voice echoed from behind Sirus’ shoulder. "I don't really have a preference for either form, but being human while inside the house can be convenient."

 

The bed creaked next to him, and Toby, now dressed, was sitting beside him. Even with a few inches between Toby’s thigh and Sirus’ shoulders, he could feel the heat emanating from the other man. He was hot. Physically hot. Temperature hot. Did he have a fever or was Toby’s body temperature just naturally the same as a dogs?

 

“Convenient how?” Sirus asked.

 

Toby held up his hands, wriggling his thumbs with a grin.

 

Sirus nodded. He wasn't even sure if he wanted Toby to go back to being a dog. Or wolf or whatever. Now that the secret was out, it would feel strange. Like most people, he'd had a somewhat infantilised view of Toby as a dog, but now being aware of Toby's humanity made viewing him as a simple creature feel wrong.

 

"That's fine, I guess," Sirus replied. "But you have to stay a dog when I have people over. And no more barking at my one-night stands!"

 

Toby grinned. Finding devious ways to chase off women (and the occasional man) had been a favourite past-time of his; as a dog, life had been dull, and he'd found creative ways to entertain himself. Furthermore, Toby couldn't deny a part of himself that had felt protective over Sirus. Maybe even a little jealous. Not that he'd ever thought of Sirus in a sexual or romantic manner. Sirus had always just been his human, and he didn't want someone else coming in and mucking that up.

 

"Hey, I sleep in this bed, too," Toby quipped playfully. "I don't want to sleep in someone else’s spunk."

 

Sirus' mouth dropped momentarily. God, who knew his dog was such an ass? And yet, he wasn't terribly surprised. Obviously, Toby had never communicated his opinions vocally before, but the dog had been incredibly astute at communicating with his body and his expression. Anytime Sirus had done something stupid, he could practically feel the dog's sarcastic remark in those glittering eyes.

 

Furthermore, Toby's response reminded him of their sleeping arrangements. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was with a very human, very attractive man sleeping next to him. Maybe that was another situation in which Toby would just have to be furry.

 

"Well," Sirus interjected, aiming to change the subject. "If you're going to stay like that some of the time, we'll need to get you some proper clothes. We could go out shopping for you?"

 

Toby’s body tightened next to him, and for a moment, he was silent, breath held.

 

“Do you not want to go out in public?” Sirus enquired.

 

Toby’s leg was beginning to jiggle, and when Sirus looked up to meet his face, he could see Toby chewing on his bottom lip. Even as a human, Sirus could see his canines were a little more sharp and elongated, though not quite pronounced enough for him to have noticed had he not been looking already.

 

“It just...makes me nervous,” Toby relinquished.

 

Sirus knew he shouldn’t press the matter further; Toby looked as distressed as he’d been when he found out Sirus intended to give him the snip. But dammit, Sirus was a nosy bastard, and his mind was wracked with the idea of what a massive man, capable of transforming into jaws on four legs, could be scared of.

 

“Is it, like, some sort of social anxiety?” he pressed.

 

Toby chuckled, tossing still damp hair behind his shoulder; the ludicrousness of Sirus’ suggestion had broken some of his tension. His hair released a spray of water, which misted Sirus’ cheeks, causing his nose to wrinkle. He elbowed Toby’s hip in protest, which finally seemed to break the latter from his momentary funk.

 

“I can deal with humans,” Toby elaborated. “I’m just worried about anyone else.”

 

The hair on the back of Sirus’ neck stood erect, goosebumps blooming down his arms. Dread sat like a stone in his gut.

 

“There are others?” he asked incredulously.

 

“I’m not some sort of freak anomaly,” Toby chuffed.

 

_Well this fucking sucks_ , Sirus thought. He thought he’d be able to handle the idea of werewolves being real when it’d been confined to a single entity- and one with whom he was familiar and comfortable. But imagining a world festering with them was a harder pill to swallow, especially if they elicited such a visceral reaction from Toby.

 

“Are they dangerous?” Sirus whispered, as if fearing that speaking aloud would suddenly draw a horde of creatures upon them.

 

Toby looked down at Sirus again, eyes wide but contemplative. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head. His mouth pulled up into a facsimile of a smile, but Sirus was suspect to its validity.

 

“No, I’m just being paranoid,” he acquiesced. “We should go.”

 

Though Sirus attempted to tell Toby that it wasn’t necessary for both of them to go- it was possible for him to go alone and gess at Toby’s size- the werewolf seemed determined to assuage Sirus’ previous worries. After unceremoniously dumping the trash on the passenger side of his car into the back seat, the two of them made off toward the mall on the nicer side of town. Toby seemed to be trying valiantly to retain his normal cheerful disposition, but Sirus couldn’t help but notice the intensity with which he scrutinized everyone they passed on the drive.

 

“So,” Sirus began, trying to keep the silence from growing too expansive.  “Have you always been a werewolf?”

 

“Yep, born and raised,” Toby replied.

 

The answer surprised him. From fairy tales and fiction, he’d assumed lycanthropy was a curse given to humans, but apparently they could be made the old-fashioned way, too.

 

“So your parents?”

 

“My dad was a werewolf,” Toby confirmed. “My mom was born human but turned after she met my father.”

 

Sirus chewed over that info. Toby had used past-tense, but that didn't necessarily mean his parents were dead. He knew enough estranged families to know sometimes the past-tense was used to keep a comfortable, emotional distance. Sirus was curious, but even he had limits on acceptable subjects to broach. Whether Toby’s parents were passed or estranged, it wasn’t first date conversation material. _Not that buying your dog clothes is a date_ , he interluded.

 

“So if werewolves are real, are other things, too?” he probed. “Like vampires?”

 

Toby nodded reluctantly.

 

“Yeah, vampires are real,” he admitted. “But they’re not like how most media portrays them.”

 

“No sparkles?” Sirus quipped.

 

Toby laughed as he leaned back in the chair, for once tearing his gaze off the road to stare up at the smoke-stained ceiling.

 

“No,” he elucidated. “And no mysterious dark societies. They’re weird, man. Total loners. I’m not convinced the disease doesn’t drive them all insane.”

 

“Are they dangerous?” Sirus asked.

 

“Yes,” he responded gravely. “Fortunately, they’re really rare. You’re probably more likely to be killed by a cow.”

 

“And werewolves?” Sirus asked, knowing he’d inquired before but hoping that Toby would be more forthcoming this time.

 

“Not to humans.”

 

Sirus knew not to push the subject further this time. Toby turned to him, giving him an easy smile, but even with half his attention to the road, Sirus had noticed the dark shadow that had veiled his expression when he’d answered.

 

Eventually, they reached the mall and scoured the parking garage before finding a spot.

 

Once they began shopping, Sirus noted that the only shirts that Toby showed interested in were, strangely, flannels. He’d attempted to convince Toby that he should also get something more appropriate for the summer months, but the werewolf shot down every other option that he offered.  Sirus eventually gave up on expanding Toby’s fashion sense; besides, Bay Area summers were comparatively mild and breezy, even in the denser urban areas of Oakland.

 

More importantly, they managed to find several pairs of pants for him. While Toby had wanted loose cut jeans, after Sirus had gotten a peak of the other’s long, toned legs, he couldn’t allow the atrocity of hiding them behind baggy pants; he convinced him into a pair of skinny jeans. Though Sirus tried to chastise himself for admiring the view, it was impossible to deny how good he looked- much more shapely than Sirus’ own scrawny ass.

 

With a bare-bones wardrobe established, they returned home. As they drove, the world around them transitioned from the gentrified Emeryville mall back to dilapidated west Oakland, where his house stood in a row with other single family homes with ratty laws, chain-link fences, and chipping paint. In this area of town, it was more common to see windows with iron bars than without.

 

Only after they were inside, clothes thrown into the laundry bin, did Sirus realize they would now need to iron out the details of their sleeping situation.

 

“So tonight, do you think you’d be able to…” Sirus trailed off, trying to find couth words to express his discomfort.

 

But before he could elaborate, Toby caught his implication and nodded.

 

Sirus’ mouth dropped open as Toby pulled off his shirt. God, he was ripped for a man Sirus knew had spent the last two years lounging on his couch. He turned around promptly as Toby started pulling down his new jeans, though not before getting a brief flash of hip bones and muscle sloping down toward a nest of dark, close-clipped curls.

 

Behind him, he once again heard that eerie cracking, and a few moments later, something fuzzy and warm ran under his fingers. Toby, now once again his grey, hulking dog, sat with his head pressed under Sirus’ hand. His heart ached at the sight.

 

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sight of him, the familiar canine form that had been his most loyal friend. Even though his logical brain argued that Toby had been with him the whole time.

 

Sirus crawled into bed, grabbing his lighter and a still half-packed bowl from the bedside table. Toby jumped up to join him, curling up by his stomach, and this time Sirus didn’t feel guilty blowing smoke into Toby’s face when the dog pressed his nose up toward Sirus’ mouth. He laughed as he exhaled. All these years, he’d tried his best to not damage his dog’s lungs when Toby had insisted on shoving his nose into his pot smoke, but now that he knew that Toby was intelligent enough to consent to it, there was a satisfaction in sharing.

 

Slowly, he found his shoulders relaxing; only when the last bit of tension slipped out of his muscles did he realize how taut they’d been all day. Toby’s body had also slowly slackened, and Sirus snaked an arm around him to rub idly at the dog’s belly. At some point, without realizing it, the two fell fast asleep.


End file.
